Diversions
by bansidhe
Summary: It's the trio's last summer before their Seventh year. Ginny and Hermione want to go out dancing on a girl's night: Ron has a plan that could put a crimp in theirs. Harry comes along for the ride and general silliness ensues. Fluff!Fic one-shot.


  
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including (but not limited to) Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made from my having written this story, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.   
  
Other citations and credits will be made at the end where necessary.  
  


**Diversions**

  
    It was nearing the end of the summer holiday, and Ginny was feeling a little too aware that her brother and friends were entering their final year at Hogwarts. She was feeling more than a little restless: there hadn't been any word from her other Hogwarts friends in weeks, and constantly being around her brothers was rapidly losing its charm.  
    Ginny also felt overwhelmingly bored, and in dire need of doing something other than hanging about in the Burrow. Ginny had been paying attention when Lavender quizzed her Muggle-born friends about the London clubs, but ran into a problem with using this information: First, neither Harry nor Ron were girls; second, they weren't likely to approve of how one celebrated those clubbing nights. It wasn't anything close to a night of drunkenness and debauchery, but dancing provocatively with strangers and each other would likely give Ron a case of the fits.  
    _Wait -- Not Ron, but Hermione might want to go..._ Grinning wickedly, Ginny grabbed her quill and called for Pig.  
  


* * *

  
  
    Hermione walked downstairs in inside her parent's home in the suburban outskirts of London, Ginny's letter folded tightly in her hand. "Mum," she said, raising her voice and ready to direct herself when her mother replied, "Ginny's asked me to go out dancing with her tonight. May I go?"  
    "Dancing where, Hermione?" her mother called back, voice coming from the den.  
    "A club in London, I think," said Hermione, walking quickly towards the room she'd heard her mother's voice in. "I promise I'll bring my wand with me and not get into trouble."  
    Dr. Granger sat her paperwork down across the coffee table and pursed her lips. "You'll be home before it's too late, won't you? Midnight?"  
    "Two, please?"  
    "How about one?"  
    "I think I can manage that." Hermione grinned, and sat herself on the sofa to kiss her mother's cheek. "Thank you!"  
    "Enjoy yourself, love," her mother said, smiling absently as she picked the paperwork up once again. Hermione quickly lifted herself off the couch and rushed back upstairs to send Pigwidgeon back with the news.  
  


* * *

  
    It wasn't long before the bouncing redhead Apparated in Hermione's bedroom with a loud crack and a squeal. "That's brilliant! Your mum really said you could go?!"  
    Hermione threw the book she'd been reading at the other girl, laughing at the start Ginny'd given her. "What, you couldn't have sent me an owl to say that?"  
    "I could, but then I wouldn't have had as much time to make sure we look good." Ginny grinned, picking up the dog-eared softcover from where it had landed and read the title aloud. "_Once Upon a Broomstick_, Hermione?" Ginny checked the back cover with a mildly curious grin.   
    Reddening, Hermione snatched the romance novel away and stuffed it beneath her bed. "I was bored," she offered lamely, and then pointed Ginny at her closet. "Pick out something to wear, won't you? Leave the black sweater, though -- that's what I'm wearing."  
    Ginny found the mentioned sweater, and eyed the plunging neckline. "Wow, Hermione -- That's some shirt. Have you gone out in public wearing that?"  
    "Of course I have, once. That was the last time I was able to go dancing. I was hardly noticeable, nearly everyone's dressed like that or less." Hermione hopped up and laid the shirt out on the bed, following it with a navy pair of trousers. "See anything you like?"  
    The pair went through Hermione's closet and found some black corduroy trousers for Ginny, but didn't find anything else that suited: Quietly, the girls snuck into the closet of Hermione's mother. Within ten minutes, they had found just the thing, and Ginny set to making Hermione up with cosmetics.  
  


* * *

  
  
    Ron sat on the grass and swung the last gnome over his head by its ankles, letting it build up a little speed before tossing it out of the garden: The de-gnoming was done again, for this week. "Harry?"  
    Harry had stretched out on the grass, his arms crossed behind his head: He sat up slightly and looked over at his best friend. "Yes, Ron?"  
    "I'm bored."  
    "Mmm."  
    "Aren't you?"  
    "Not especially. I like it here. Quieter than the Dursley's, you know."  
    "True." Ron looked up at the sky, watching the dusk darken into night. "You know, I haven't seen Ginny all day."  
    "No, we haven't. I don't think she's made it a habit to follow us about since her twelfth birthday, Ron."  
    "No, but we usually see her at least once. Twice or more, if she's bored."  
    "Ron?"  
    "What?"  
    "Why are you so interested in what Ginny's up to?"  
    "... It's too quiet. She has to be up to something."  
    "Well, why don't you go ask her and get it over with, then?"  
    "You know, I will!" Ron hopped to his feet and went stomping into the house, leaving Harry alone on the lawn. Harry took the moment to close his eyes and listen to the crickets: He smiled as night's coolness began to take hold, enjoying the feeling of not having to be anywhere.  
  
    And then, with the thumping of crushed grass, Ron's footsteps returned. "She's not here. She's gone dancing in London with Hermione."  
    Harry opened his eyes, getting a mild vertigo from staring up at Ron so he looked upside-down. "Dancing? Muggle London? Both Ginny and Hermione?"  
    "Right! Come on, get up -- We've got to keep an eye on them! You never know what club blokes have in mind for girls..."  


* * *

  
    "Hermione, this thing's all kinds of drafty. I don't know why I let you talk me into wearing it."  
    "You're the one that found it! And you did say you wanted a proper club experience -- though I wouldn't have had the courage to wear it, myself."  
    "That's it, it's your fault -- You let me leave the house like this."  
    "It is not my fault. I certainly didn't cast an Unforgivable and make you do it. Besides, the gold makes a lovely background for your hair -- like a flame, I think."  
    "Brilliant. So I look like a roman candle."  
    "Hush, we're here."  
    "Oh, Mum will kill me if she finds out...!"  


* * *

  
    "Are you quite certain about this?" Harry asked uneasily, not certain he liked being Ron's test subject.  
    "Come on, Harry," Ron groaned, waving his wand in Harry's direction with his nose buried in a book. "It's nothing to worry about, just a little glamour spell. Would Hermione have given me this spellbook if she though I couldn't handle it?"   
    "Maybe," Harry admitted warily, "But not likely, no."  
    "All right, then! Hold still." And with that, Ron waved the wand in a complex little gesture. "_Vultus Muto!_"  
  
    Harry shut his eyes tightly, waiting for Ron to say something about how dire the circumstance was -- but the bellow never came. He carefully squinted an eye open. "Well, how bad is it?"  
    Ron looked very satisfied, tapping his wand on his shoulder, oblivious to the little shower of orange and green sparks it was creating. "It's not, it's different. Have a look in the mirror."  
    Fearfully, Harry had a look -- and a stranger's face looked back at him, his eyes a light brown instead of the more familiar green. There was no scar, his nose looked a little longer, and his hair seemed four shades more brown -- even his glasses had changed. "Wow."  
    Ron turned the wand on himself while Harry admired his handiwork, and then joined the other boy at the mirror: Ron's face changed too, but the spell hadn't done a thing to his red shock of hair. "I think I did yours one better, mate."  
    "It shouldn't matter," Harry offered helpfully. "It is dark in clubs, isn't it?"  
    "True. Let's go raid the box of cast-offs that Mum's been keeping..."  
  


* * *

  
    Inside the club, Ginny's eyes quickly adjusted to the dark: Whatever she had been anticipating when planning the night, this wasn't it -- Lavender hadn't bothered to mention the crowd of people and the inability to hear anything over the music. "Hermione," she said, and realized her voice was quickly being drowned out by the din. She punctuated her second try with a tug on her friend's sleeve. "_Hermione!_"  
    Hermione turned and shrugged slightly at Ginny. 'What's wrong?' she mouthed exaggeratedly, clearly a little more comfortable with the situation they'd gotten into.  
    Ginny shook her head and rubbed her bare arms self-consciously, mouthing her own message back. 'Don't lose me!' Hermione had been telling the truth, there were many people in varying states of dress -- Hermione was on the more conservative side, and to her horror, Ginny's halter top made her one of those baring more skin than not.   
  
_The grabbing hands  
Grabbing we can  
Everything counts in large amounts_  
  
    _Grabbing hands indeed,_ Ginny thought, again wishing she'd thought to bring a jacket -- anything to cover up with. Dubiously, she looked out at the dancing crowd of people: Every last one of them seemed shoulder to shoulder, making those 'grabbing hands' very likely in Ginny's mind. _I don't have to do this. Hermione's within cab distance, so I can turn around and walk out now, Apparate home..._  
    Hermione shook her head as if she could read Ginny's mind: More than likely, she had read the indecision on the younger girl's face. Grabbing the redhead's wrists with a grin, Hermione pulled her out onto the dance floor.  
    Ginny had no choice at that point; flinching as she bumped into people, she mouthed apologies, and was quite relieved when Hermione found a spot that pleased her. When Hermione started to dance, Ginny tried to mimic her, mentally making note. _Swing your hips, step, bounce? Oh, hands, right, arms up. Sway..._  
    Two new boys pushed their way through the crowd as well: One redhead, and one brunette wearing glasses. Both of them appeared to be looking for something, craning their heads about. Neither one seemed overly eager to join the dance, and instead followed the walkway of chairs and tables around to the slightly quieter din of the bar. "What do you think, Harry? D'you see them?"  
    "No," Harry said, casting a glance at the dance floor from this angle. "Of course, it probably doesn't help that we don't know what we're looking for."  
    "Of course we do! Mum said Ginny was wearing a red jumper today."  
    Harry didn't point out to Ron that Ginny could have changed -- It didn't seem prudent. "And you're sure this is the club they're in?"  
    "Ginny left the location written down with Mum, and this is the club mentioned," Ron said, shrugging. A look of horror flashed across his face. "You don't suppose they went somewhere else?"  
    "No, not likely. This is Hermione we're talking about, remember?"  
    "Yes, so?"  
    "Do you think she'd let Ginny take her somewhere other than where Ginny'd told your Mum?"  
    "Oh. Not likely, right?"  
    Nodding, Harry scanned the sea of people again for a familiar pairing of red and curly brown. "Wait, I think I see them -- Over there, by the front."  
    After watching Hermione for encouragement, Ginny soon let go and found her own way to dance -- It proved much easier when she wasn't trying to copy someone, but instead let the music move her. As Muggle music, it was unfamiliar; the only parts that really mattered were the beat and the blast of sound.  
    And just when she'd been enjoying it most, Hermione stopped and put a hand on her arm. "I need a drink," she half-shouted, leaning close to be heard. "Mind keeping our space? Want anything?"  
    Ginny shook her head negatively to both questions, offering her friend a grin as she moved in a step-turn she'd seen another dancer manage. The pair nodded at each other and Ginny watched her friend go towards the back of the club: She felt a momentary pang of worry while watching her leave, but consoled herself with the thought that she'd be back soon enough. And, she could always keep on dancing.  
  
    "Wait, Ron, don't look: Here comes Hermione!" Harry spotted her walking in their direction, and a small feeling of panic rose in his chest -- _Caught!_ He let it go in a breath of relief as Hermione walked right by them with barely more than an 'Excuse me.'  
    "Worried, Harry?" Ron grinned, straightening the black jacket he'd found among Bill's cast-offs.  
    "Honestly? Yes. What makes you so certain Hermione won't catch on?"  
    With a wink, Ron tapped his new nose. "We've never done this sort of thing without her before, that's what. We'll be fine, she won't see it coming."   
    Harry didn't look convinced, so Ron shrugged and smiled. "Look, if you're still concerned, you can go keep an eye on Ginny. Go dance with her or something, all right?"  
    "All right."   
    That taken care of, Ron took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair before started off after Hermione.  
  
    Harry ducked into the crowd, heading towards where he'd last spotted his best friend's sister: It wasn't easy to tell the difference of her red hair from any other girl's, with the lights flashing in brilliant colours across the crowd. After two misses, he was almost certain he'd seen her -- and then he saw the very brief and very shiny halter-top she was wearing.  
    _Ron is going to have kittens,_ Harry thought, unable to keep an appreciative glance off the nearly naked lines of Ginny's back.  
    Steeling himself, he stepped up and moved into her line of sight. 'May I?' he mouthed, holding a hand out to her. He was surprised at the glow he felt when she glanced him over and grinned at him, taking the offered hand.  
  
    Having succeeded in catching the bar staff's attention without too much fuss, Hermione was now waiting in the queue for her turn to order. Patiently, she leaned against the counter and kept an eye out for the gentleman that signaled he would take her order.   
    "Hello there! What're you drinking?"  
    The voice from behind made Hermione jump, but she didn't dare turn around -- she could easily lose her spot that way. "I'm not yet, actually. If you'll pardon me-"  
    "No trouble," the young man behind her said, stepping to the side and sidling up next to her at the bar, succeeding in pushing a few of the other patrons out of the way and earning a few miffed looks. "Oi! Barkeep! I'll have what she's having!"  
    Turning to the rude person next to her, Hermione hissed, "I haven't ordered anything yet, and probably can't now, thanks to you." She glared, quite certain the gent next to her was a tourist, a nutter, or both. "What part of the country do you come from that it's acceptable to holler at the bar staff like an oaf?"  
    Taken aback, Ron glanced from an irate Hermione to the bar staff, who were pointedly avoiding his gaze. "Well, I -- I didn't mean anything by it," he stammered, noting that didn't go anywhere near as well as planned. "Keep your hair on, 'Mione!"  
    Ron knew that was a mistake the moment it slipped out.  
    Hermione's eyes flew wide and then narrowed down to angry slits. Glancing up at the red hair, she took a step forward, pushing him back from the bar without laying a hand on him. "Ronald Weasley."  
    "No, no, you've got the wrong chap," he tried to protest, backing up even as he saw Hermione reaching up her sleeve -- probably for her wand. "Oh, bugger."  
    "Wrong chap, hm?" Out came Hermione's wand, the patrons at the bar too wrapped up in ordering to bother with the spat ten paces behind them. "We'll see about that. _Finite Incantatum!_"  
    Caught, Ron propped himself against the railing behind him as his face returned to normal, waiting for the storm he knew was to come. _Bollocks. I should've just turned and run._ "Er, hallo. Fancy seeing you here, Hermione. Er -- surprise?"  
    "Surprised? Yes. Quite! What on earth prompted you to come to this club, in disguise?" Hermione slid her wand back into her sleeve with a violent flick of her wrist. "You can't bear to see Ginny and I have fun without you, can you? Is Harry here, too?"  
    "Yes, but -- It's really not like that."  
    "No? What is it really like, then?"  
    "Well," Ron began, but completely lost that thought as he focused on the dance floor. He gave a start and nearly choked, staring at what had come into focus. "Merlin's beard! What the bloody hell is Ginny _wearing_?! Does Mum know she's got that?"  
    "Oh," Hermione said, managing to avoid an answer herself: She followed Ron's gaze to see how Ginny was faring, and spotted her dancing with a young man. "Seems she's got a new friend. Is he being a gentleman, or are you going to have to go interrupt them?"  
    "Him? He's nothing to worry about. That's Harry."   
  
    The pair on the dance floor were enjoying themselves: Harry tried to gently spin Ginny at every occasion as they danced, marveling at the way the moving lights played on Ginny's metallic shirt.   
    Ginny loved having someone new and attractive to dance with, even if Hermione had been gone for some time now. Frowning slightly at that thought, she realized the song had changed: Sliding her arms around her dance partner's neck, she came in closer for the dance and to look for Hermione over his shoulders.  
  
_Everything gone backwards  
And I, upside down  
Stop me dead oh I think I'm falling_  
  
    Ginny spotted her friend watching her from near the bar and sighed in relief -- But then, Ron was standing next to Hermione. Looking right at her. With her arms wrapped rather familiarly around a young man that Ron didn't know. Gasping softly, her steps faltered.  
  
_Hit the floor  
So stop the traffic  
Stop the clock, stop the lot_  
  
    "What?" the young man holding her asked, briefly holding her closer to speak in her ear. "What's wrong?"  
    Ginny found herself staring at him, into the dark brown eyes filled with a familiar concern -- and recognized him. She knew the scent of his hair, the look in his eyes, and crazy as it seemed: This was Harry. _That's the only thing that makes sense. Ron'd gut anyone else holding me, dressed like this._ "N-nothing," she said, letting the song momentarily speed by without her. "I -- Well, I'd like to try dancing a little differently. All right?"  
    Harry barely had time to agree before Ginny turned, pressing her back very closely against his front and grabbed the belt loops to either side of his hips. _Harry wants to dance? We'll dance. There's more than one way to make a scene..._   
  
_So stop the traffic  
Stop the clock, stop the lot  
I wanna get off   
I wanna get off with you_  
  
    Suddenly overwhelmed, Harry managed the only thing a seventeen year old boy could do in his place: He put his hands around her waist and held on for dear life, praying this wasn't one of _those_ dreams.   
  
    Ron wasn't feeling quite so pragmatic.  
    "_Hermione!_ Did you see what Ginny -- Harry! -- That's ruddy well enough of that!" Lowering his head, Ron started into the crowded dance floor, clearly intent on wrenching Harry off his baby sister and dragging her out of the club.  
    Hermione dashed in front of Ron, cutting him off. "Ron, you can't do that."  
    "No?" He tried to step around Hermione, only to have her cut him off again.  
    "No. First, you trust Harry."  
    "Hah! That was before the bump and grind, thank you!"  
    "Harry won't do anything to Ginny that some other man might."  
    "It certainly looks like he is! Hermione, move."  
    "Ron, Ginny's safe with him. You said so yourself."  
    Ron didn't seem convinced, still staring ahead at the entangled couple.  
    "... Dance with me."  
    "What? Woman, are you mad?"  
    "Not by half." Hermione crossed her arms and set her jaw, glaring at Ron. "This is your only chance, you know. I want to dance, and if you're going to tell me 'no' to go thump Harry or humiliate Ginny, I'm going to find someone else and never offer again."  
    Ron looked from Ginny and Harry to Hermione, chewing his lip indecisively.  
    "Oh, come on, Ron. You don't want to fight _that_ much." Hermione grabbed Ron by the arm; slowly, he followed her to another part of the dance floor, well away from their friends.  
  
_And like a speeding car you want more! more! more!  
And like a rattlesnake I hate  
I wanna get off  
I wanna get off with you_  
  
    His head spinning, Harry tried to step back from Ginny: It took a moment for her to realize he was serious, but she let him go. He held out his hand, and the pair walked to the tables hand in hand. "I hope you were having fun, but there's something I ought to tell you before we keep dancing..."  
    "What's that, Harry?"  
    Harry blinked his brown eyes, frowning slightly. "You knew?"  
    "Yes," she said, grinning. "It was your -- eyes," she offered, eagerly leaving out the detail that she'd recognized his smell. "Not the colour, just, well... The way you look at people. And, a bit from your voice when I caught it on the floor."  
    Harry propped his elbow on the table and leaned on his hand, looking skeptically at Ginny.  
    "Well, that, and I spotted Ron."  
    "Spotted him?" Puzzled, Harry looked about and didn't seem to see Ron. "Wasn't he disguised?  
    "No -- And Hermione did look a little miffed. I'm willing to bet she's the reason for that."  
    "... And you aren't upset?"  
    "Why? Should I be?"  
    "No. Well, perhaps. I just hope you aren't."  
    "There's plenty of time to be upset later," Ginny teased. "Just, promise me something in the future?"  
    "All right," Harry agreed, guardedly. "What's that?"  
    Ginny smiled. "You can dance with me without the play-acting. If you ever want to."   
    Harry sat quietly and listened to the music for a moment, making sure the Republica song was over; it was, and a slow song had taken its place. "Ginny?"  
    "Yes?"  
    "Care to dance?"  
    "I thought you'd never ask."  


Epilogue

  
    It was well past two a.m. when Ginny and Ron's hands on the Weasley family clock finally whirled back into the 'Home Safe' position: Three teenagers crept back in, quieting charms cast on their shoes. Harry's jacket hung from Ginny's shoulders as she peeked in, making certain no one was about.   
    "All clear," she hissed, creeping in the door: Ron was right behind her, followed by Harry. "Thanks again for agreeing not to tell Mum about the halter Hermione loaned me, Ron."  
    "I've agreed to no such thing," Ron sniffed quietly. "Why would I go and do a thing like that?"  
    Harry held his breath, trying not to laugh at the look Ginny shot behind her.  
    "Simple. I'm sure Mum would love to know that you're the reason we were late," Ginny replied, still leading the creep back up to their rooms. "After all, you were the one playing tonsil-Quidditch with Hermione. What were you doing, trying to get the Quaffle through her centre hoop?"  
    "Right," said Ron in clipped reply, ignoring Harry's choked laughter. "Mum never hears a word."   


[Fin.]

  
General Notes:  
The Republica song is _Get Off_, released summer of 1996.  
'Grabbing Hands' is actually _Everything Counts_ from Depeche Mode, released 1984.  
My apologies on the club scene: Having never been in the UK, I don't know what it's like, and I couldn't find any descriptions. Any glaring errors will be repaired if you tell me.  
Many, many thanks to Ferox, who put up with me bombarding her with snippets of this ficlet.  
I am also greatly appreciative of Atari_Eric, who pointed out some inconsistencies in character that I've hopefully fixed in the web-'published' version.


End file.
